


An Incomplete Collection of Improper Conversations

by Stonestrewn



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Loyalty, Magic, Minor Injuries, Secret Relationship, mentions of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-24 00:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonestrewn/pseuds/Stonestrewn
Summary: “It’s less a matter of not wanting to sleep with you,” Aud says, “and more one of your father killing me if he finds out.”“Why would he ever?” Yngvild raises her eyebrows in a show of bewilderment. “Are you planning to walk up to him afterwards, like, ‘forgive me, for I have tasted your daughter’s cream puff, M’lordship?'”





	An Incomplete Collection of Improper Conversations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



> Hello, dear recipient, and thank you very much for such fun prompts! I allowed myself to get a little carried away and self indulgent, and I hope you'll enjoy this even a fraction of how much I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, who will remain unnamed for now.

Her charge propositions her the first night over dinner.

“Only if you want, of course,” Yngvild says, tucking her sleek dark hair behind her ear. Her emerald earrings glimmer in the lantern light. So do her deep brown eyes. “I’ll still make sure daddy gives you a good reference if you’d rather not.”

Aud swallows the spoonful of porridge she nearly choked on in her surprise. 

“I thought you were a virgin,” she says, too thrown off balance to maintain proper tactfulness. 

“Well, technically. I haven’t had a man’s cock inside me, so it counts. Right?” 

The word ‘cock’ from the rose petal mouth of the Frostwell Valley virgin, daughter to Lord of the Star, is slightly surreal. Yngvild rests her pointy chin in her dainty hands, her flowing dress pooling around her small feet in delicate silk slippers. 

“Right?” she asks again. 

Aud puts her half full bowl down on the ground beside her. 

“It’s not for me to say, My Lady.”

“I like it when you call me My Lady,” Yngvild says. “You sound like you don’t really mean it, like you’re just pretending to be deferential.” She smiles. “I’m glad daddy hired you to escort me. Even if you don’t want to fuck me.” 

Aud has escorted a number of young noble ladies since she started putting her archery skills out for hire. There’s always someone or other who needs to go from her brother’s estate to her father’s castle, from the winter villa to the summer house. On well traveled roads like these one skilled guard or follower is enough to see them there safely, and the girls’ guardians often prefer to enlist the services of a female freelancer for the task. Wandering woman mercenaries like Aud aren’t generally considered a threat to a lady’s virtue, while the fears surrounding a debutante of the blood eloping with one of the male guards run deep, regardless of how seldom such scandals occur.

Most of these trips are the exact same degree of dull. The ladies typically don’t speak, or even look at Aud, she sleeps outside their tents on the ground and eats separately, and doesn’t remember any of their faces once she’s had her payment. 

Yngvild is different. Five minutes out the gates of the Star castle she was peppering Aud with all manner of questions about her life. Questions about where she grew up (the northern woodlands), how she learned to shoot a bow (mother was a huntress), if it’s fun to be a freelance fighter (more fun than the army) and about her favorite color (blue). Upon making camp Yngvild was adamant about Aud staying inside the brocade tent with her, and put out two fine leather folding chairs opposite each other so they could dine together.

Aud will remember Yngvild. Fondly. 

“It’s less a matter of not wanting,” Aud says now, “and more one of your father killing me if he finds out.”

“Why would he ever?” Yngvild raises her eyebrows in a show of bewilderment. “Are you planning to walk up to him afterwards, like, ‘forgive me, for I have tasted your daughter’s cream puff, M’lordship’?”

“I suppose not,” Aud says, fighting laughter. 

“There you go, then.”

Yngvild has a dimple in her left cheek. Her skin is smooth and rosy, her tongue is quick and pink, and her hips are wide, her thighs are thick and her breasts are round and pert beneath her dress. 

Aud hasn’t ogled her, she would never be disrespectful, but she knows Yngvild’s image will come to her next time she touches herself. 

“I’m not going to persuade you,” Yngvild says. She stands, fiddling with the embroidery on her long sleeves. “You said no. That’s fine.”

Sleeping with your charge would be an awful idea, impulsive and reckless and potentially disastrous. Aud swallows, hard.

“Didn’t really say no.”

Yngvild crosses her arms. “Didn’t really say yes.” She regards Aud with narrowed eyes. “Are you being coy with me? Because I hate that.”

“I…” Aud hesitates. “I’ve never… made love before.”

“No way!”

In a flurry of long hair and layered skirts, Yngvild leaps over to Aud. All of a sudden she’s right there, crouched next to Aud in an improper yet casual reverse of their respective social stations.

“You mean you’re a virgin-virgin? As in no sex at all? Even with hands and stuff?”

“Virgin-virgin,” Aud confirms. Her cheeks are burning. Yngvild is even more dazzling up close. 

“I thought you’d have tons of lovers! You’re so beautiful!”

Aud has to laugh. She’s short and stout, built like a barrel balancing on two tree trunks, with a round belly and hefty arms. Her skin is ruddy and weathered, her hair is a wiry mess of curls going prematurely grey, and her nose has a bump from that time she broke it. She has pockmarks on her cheeks and a chipped tooth. 

She likes her body, it serves her well, and she doesn’t spend time dwelling on her face. But no one would ever call her beautiful.

“Don’t laugh,” Yngvild scolds. “I mean it.”

“Thank you,” Aud says. “You’re kind.”

Yngvild sighs. “No, I’m not. I’m selfish and I want to sleep with you more knowing I’d be your first.” She tilts her head, looks up at Aud with her big, brown doe eyes. “Just so you know, I’m real good at being someone’s first.”

“Have you had a lot of virgins?”

“I guess.” Yngvild’s eyes rove over the swell of Aud’s belly, her thighs, linger between her legs where her clit has started to make itself known, throbbing in response to the naked lust in Yngvild’s gaze. “I’m trying to be with as many women as I can now. I’ll be married soon enough, stuck in some lord’s castle and filling it with babies. It won’t be as easy for me then, to meet women like you.”

“Women like me?”

“Strong and cool and talented. Women who do things.”

“Most women do things.”

“Not me. I just look pretty.” Yngvild flashes a wicked smile. “I do a lot of people, though.” 

Aud grins back. 

“Lucky people.”

With graceful flourish, Yngvild gets from her crouch onto one knee, clasping Aud’s hands in both of her own.

“Aud Surefire,” she says. “Would you grant me the honor of robbing you of your innocence.”

Heart pounding Aud cants her hips forward, parting her legs in invitation.

“Sure,” she says. “Why not?”

***

“How could you keep this from me!”

Yngvild swats Aud on the arm. It's barely a slap, but Aud still flinches. The limb is swollen, the bruises already intensely painful. The healer applied a salve, and even that gentle touch hurt. 

“There was never a reason to bring it up, I-”

“Never a reason? You know magic! That’s its own reason! Do you know how many times I’ve wished for a chance to see magic in action?”

“I-”

“ _So many times!_ ”

Aud sits on the four poster bed in one of the guest chambers in Yngvild’s father’s castle, unsettled and out of place among the displays of overwhelming luxury. The candelabra on the nightstand alone is probably worth more money than Aud could earn over several years of steady work.

“Unbelievable.” Yngvild shakes her head. She hasn’t changed out of her bottle green riding dress, the hem stained with mud and dust from the road. There’s a scrape on her forehead from a branch whipping her face. The healer had wanted to see to it before Aud, but Yngvild had waved away all concern and directed it towards Aud, instead. As soon as Aud’s injury was declared harmless, if painful, Yngvild sent the healer away. 

Then this incensed interrogation. 

“Does daddy know?”

“No one does, I wasn’t specifically keeping this from you.”

“Why keep it from anyone at all? You could charge so much more money if you advertised having magic. You wouldn’t even need to be a mercenary vagabond anymore! You could become an enforcer, or enroll at university, or marry into a lineage, or… Or anything! Why aren’t you doing any of that?”

“It’s not-”

“Do you _like_ sleeping outside?”

“If you want an answer you need to stop interrupting me.”

“Go on, then.” Yngvild glares. “Answer.”

“Fuck the police, I don’t want to marry, I’m not smart enough for book learning and I actually do like sleeping outside.”

“What if it rains?”

“Then I get wet.” Aud sighs. “No one has gotten this mad at me for saving their life before.”

Yngvild’s father has become a steady patron, and Aud has escorted Yngvild a number of times by now. Every time Yngvild greets her demurely and keeps her gaze chastely downcast until they’re some way down the road at which point neither of them can keep their hands to themselves any longer. 

This time had been no different. Aud had her tongue deep in Yngvild’s cunt when the robbers struck.

Aud didn’t have pants on, much less her bow strung, and she had blocked the first strike with her arm, taking the full impact of a wooden club with a cry of pain. There had been no time to consider whether casting the sleeping spell, an ethereal blue shimmer emanating from her hands and settling over the three men, was a good idea or not. It was do or die, so she did. 

She left the three men tied up by the roadside to be collected by the Lord of the Star’s men, and her and Yngvild returned to the castle to see to her injury. It had been a relatively minor incident and not a very dramatic reveal. Yngvild’s reaction is completely disproportionate.

Aud tells her as much. 

“You have this amazing gift and nothing holding you back, but you won't to anything real with it,” Yngvild responds. “It’s stupid.”

“Magic users are supposed to register with the mages guild. Once I do that, I need a special passport to travel across county lines and I'll have to report in person once a year to re-evaluate my skill level. Most likely I’ll be persuaded to serve the kingdom in some way I don’t agree with.” Aud shrugs, and winces as her sore arm makes itself reminded. “I want to do whatever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want. Aud the archer can do that. Aud the mage can’t.”

The expression on Yngvild’s face softens. “That’s a valid perspective,” she admits. “Wanting to use your gift your own way. I think I might be angry at you to distract myself from thinking about how dangerous things got today.”

“Were you scared?”

“I almost pissed myself.”

“Me too.”

Yngvild sits herself next to Aud and puts her lips to Aud’s ear, her breath a sweet tickle. 

“Liar,” she purrs. “You were amazing. You casting that spell with your ass out is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Aud chuckles. “Always happy to please, My Lady.”

“Always? My orgasm did get interrupted…”

“Always, except right now,” Aud amends. “I’m so tired. Sorry.”

Magic is exhausting. Using it leaves her with a fatigue that sneaks up on and inevitably overpowers her. It’s yet another reason she prefers the bow.

“No sorries,” Yngvild says. “You’ve earned your rest.”

She helps Aud out of her clothes, careful of her wounded arm, fluffs the pillows on the bed and tucks her in beneath the eiderdown duvet. Once Aud is snug and comfortable Yngvild removes her own filthy dress and slips in under the covers as well, pressing up against Aud, warm and naked.

“Won’t his lordship have something to say about you spending the night with the hired muscle?” Aud says, even as she settles in Yngvild’s embrace, her head snuggled up between her breasts. Sne nuzzles a nipple with her nose, savors the giggle it gets her. 

“Daddy owes you my life,” Yngvild says, “so daddy can mind his own business for a hot second.”

She says something else, but Aud is already dozing off. Yngvild’s heartbeat, steady and close, follows her into her dreams.

***

“Look at you.” Yngvild beams. “All dressed up and turning heads.”

Aud grins, spins around to show off the purple and gold livery she’s been decked out with for the evening, then dips into a deep formal bow. 

“My Lady of the Star.”

“I should have told daddy to dress you up all those time you escorted me. That doublet is doing things to your figure that’s doing things to my underpants.” Yngvild glances behind her, through the glass doors and into the ballroom, before stepping further out on the balcony. “Honestly, I’m jealous.”

It’s the most ridiculous thing Aud has ever heard. 

“No one can compare to your beauty here tonight. Least of all me.”

Yngvild is dressed in thin, near translucent sky blue silk, with a neckline that plunges both in front and in the back. The fabric is embroidered with silver thread and little pearls, and there are more pearls the size of dove eggs around her neck and dangling from her ears. Her hair is piled high atop her head and her sparkling eyes are framed with thin, curving lines of silver makeup. It makes her look like a goddess risen from the sea to attend the Lady of the Oak’s spring ball.

She flutters her lashes, the perfect coquette. 

“Oh, shut it, you. It’s not a competition.” 

They’re alone on the balcony. Yngvild steps away from the golden light coming through the ballroom window to join Aud in the corner, where shadow will conceal them. Aud takes her hand when it’s offered, presses a kiss to the inside of Yngvild’s wrist. She’s wearing perfume, something light and flowery.

“I meant I’m jealous of Torunn. Lady of the Oak. She gets to look at you in finery all the time now.” Yngvild purses her silver dusted lips into a pout. “How long have you been her guardswoman?”

“I’m not. This is just for the ball.”

“Wow. You’re doing well for yourself if you can get gigs like these.”

“Saving the Lady of the Star’s life is a good reference.”

“You’re welcome for that, then.”

“I’m ever grateful.”

It’s been a good year for business. The Lord of the Star has been fairly vocal to his peers about the archer who defended his daughter, and Aud has been something of a novelty for the nobility since. She knows other freelancers who have gone through phases like this - their looks were in fashion for a time or their particular skills were original enough to show off at the soirées - and she doesn’t expect it to last. While it does, she’s enjoying these assignments that let her enter spaces she normally wouldn’t get to see. 

There have been no calls from the Lord of the Star himself, though. Aud hasn’t seen Yngvild since she left Star castle the morning after the attempted robbery.

“Did you know I was going to be here?” Yngvild asks, smile shrewd. 

“I did.”

“Have you missed me?”

“Very much,” Aud says, and it’s a truth she kept tucked away in a hidden corner of her mind until she saw Yngvild making her entrance into the ballroom, until their eyes met through the crowd and the full force of her longing slammed into her. 

She snuck out on the balcony in the hope Yngvild would follow. That she did has her insides fizzing with with joy like she’s been filled with sparkling wine.

Yngvild closes the space between them, draping her arms around Aud’s neck. 

“I think daddy got suspicious after I slept in your bed.”

“Oh.” Aud frowns. “But he still recommends me?”

“He can be overprotective and a bit of a nag, but he’s a righteous man, you know. Really into merit being rewarded. Besides, you’re no threat to my precious virginity, and I think the whole thing about women being with women confuses him a little bit.”

Aud puts her hands on Yngvild’s waist, lets them roam up her torso until she’s cupping her breasts. 

“It’s certainly mysterious.”

“Also I haven’t had to travel as much lately.” Yngvild arches her back into Aud’s touch. “I have a marriage in the bag so there’s no need for daddy to keep advertising me everywhere.”

Through great force of will Aud keeps her voice neutral as she asks: “Who’s the lucky fellow?”

“Can’t tell you. The engagement hasn’t been officially announced yet, these things are very hush-hush.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“ _You_ can, maybe. But if I tell one person I’ll keep going until I’ve blabbed it to everyone including the scullery maid. I know me.” Yngvild runs her fingers through Aud’s short cropped hair, traces her ear with a finger. “All I’ll say is the match will make a lot of people very happy.”

“Do those people include you?”

“Eh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yngvild says with a shrug a little too casual to be genuine. “I’ll be super rich, like a billion times richer than I am now. Shouldn’t spit on that.”

They embrace in silence for a little while. Music and laughter streams out from the ballroom, a cheery minuet mixed with the sounds of dozens of people laughing, chatting, enjoying themselves. On the balcony, the spring night is mild and dark, turning towards morning. Somewhere out in the garden, a blackbird sings. 

Eventually, Yngvild withdraws. 

“Better go back in,” she says. The tone of regret in her voice is a balm. “I’d invite you up to my room later, but I can’t risk scandal right now.”

“I understand.”

“Although…” Yngvild chews her lower lip for a second. “Okay. Lady of the Feather is holding a tournament next month. I’ll let her know you’re a fabulous trick shot, so if you’re in the area…?” 

Aud’s heart skips happily. “You just want to see me in livery again.”

“I just want to see you, period.”

Yngvild darts in to kiss Aud before she can say anything to that, stealing her breath away and spinning her head around, grinning when she finally lets her come up for air. She winks, gathers her skirts, and hops back inside.

She leaves the scent of flowers behind.

***

It takes some maneuvering to sneak into the queen-to-be’s private tent, but with a minor illusion spell and a fair amount of luck, Aud gets through the narrow gap between the canvas and the ground without being spotted.

Yngvild shoots up from the gilded chaise she’s been lounging on.

“You’re here!” she exclaims, and Aud puts a finger to her lips, shushing her.

“I won’t be much longer if you draw attention to it.”

No one is supposed to see the new queen before marriage. It’s one of the thousands of rituals surrounding the royal court, rooted half in ancient superstitions, half in modern politics. This seclusion of the queen the week before her big day has to do with the evil eye and curses. The seclusion happening not in a fortress or mansion or even villa somewhere, but in a procession touring the kingdom in an incredibly wasteful and impractical operation requiring a hundred soldiers and almost as many courtiers, none of whom are allowed any contact with the woman they’re attending, is inexplicable. The administrator who drew up Aud’s contract when she was recruited to join the soldiers had launched into a lecture on peace treaties and county privileges that made Aud regret ever asking about it. 

It doesn’t matter, anyway. What matters is getting a chance to say goodbye.

Yngvild wears a nightgown under a robe of royal red with embroidered stars and peacocks, her symbol and the crown prince’s. Every fabric within the tent is that same shade of red, and every metal or wooden surface is gilded. It’s all busily ostentatious, hardly a restful environment despite the many plush cushions and artful drapes.

Yngvild doesn’t look very rested, either. As she comes up to Aud, her eyes are puffy and watery.

“Have you been crying?” Aud asks. 

“I never cry,” Yngvild sniffles. “Crying is for commoners.”

“Then what does a queen do when she’s sad?”

“I’ll find out, won’t I?”

Aud doesn’t know what to say. She takes Yngvild in her arms instead, lets her cling to her, bury her face in Aud’s hair. 

“Thank you,” Yngvild says after a few moments of closeness have passes, “for not trying to cheer me up.”

“I’ve never been good at that.”

“Everyone’s worried I’m going to be all weepy at the wedding, too.” Yngvild lets go of Aud and steers her to the travel bed, as overwrought and gaudy as everything else surrounding them, so they can sit side by side. “They keep telling me how lucky I am and how happy I’ll be and chin up and bla, bla, bla. Like I don’t know how to do the one thing I’ve been raised for.” She twirls a lock of her hair in short, annoyed tugs. “I’ll be the model blushing bride, but can I have a minute to mourn the loss of my freedom first, please?”

A noble lady lives a sheltered life, but it’s nothing compared to that of a queen. Yngvild has told Aud enough about what her new status as queen will entail the few times they’ve been able to meet over the past months. She’ll never be alone in a room again, never leave the palace grounds.

“They let me to pick my own honor guard for this trip to please me,” Yngvild says. “Since I’ve been so mopey. It’s not really protocol.”

“Do we stay with you after the wedding?” Aud asks, a wild hope lighting in her chest only to be snuffed out when Yngvild shakes her head. 

“At the palace it’s all lineage guards. Hereditary positions.”

This is it, then.

“I have a wedding gift for you,” Aud says. 

“If it’s sex it’s a bad idea. You’ll be hung by your own intestines if we’re overheard.”

“It’s not sex.”

Aud extends her hand, palm up. A small, bright light gathers there, a glittering ripple in reality.

“Magic,” Yngvild breathes. 

“What do you want me to make?”

“You can just make things?”

“Conjure small objects of ethereal amber, yes.”

Magical energies drawn out into palpability but not harnessed for a spell can be made to harden and remain on the material plane. The substance resembles amber, but with the distinct iridescent shimmer all magically affected objects possess. It’s a simple task to form a trinket out of ethereal amber, nowhere near as strenuous as the casting of a spell, but it looks impressive. Yngvild will like it. 

“Can it be whatever I want?” Yngvild asks.

“As long as it’s a statuette small enough to fit in my hand.”

“The prince falling down a deep well.”

Aud laughs. “That’s treason.”

“It would be funny, though.” Yngvild furrows her brow in thought. “You should have warned me beforehand, I have no idea what to ask for…”

“A star, maybe? I can put your name on it.”

Yngvild looks at her. She’s serious now, her dark eyes reflecting Aud’s image back at her in miniature.

“You,” she says. “Make me your portrait.”

Aud opens her mouth to protest because it feels like she should, because it’s too close to an admission of the thing they’ve never spoken, but Yngvild cups her open hand in hers, frames the magic waiting there with her fingers.

“Please.” Her voice is low, almost a whisper. “You.”

So Aud complies.

It’s finicky work, making something detailed enough to resemble an individual face. She builds up the amber layer by layer - the base shape of the skull, the structure of her face, the texture of her hair. Her own face is only sort of clear in her mind, she lives a life with few mirrors, but Yngvild keeps an apt eye out and supplies helpful corrections: “your nose is bigger,” “your cheekbones are higher,” “make the mouth more kissable.” By the end, they’re both pleased with the result. 

Yngvild accepts the tiny bust and turns it over carefully, strokes the figurine’s cheek with her index finger. 

“I wish I was marrying you,” she says. 

Aud doesn’t name the feeling in her chest, the tight clench of emotion, the want that throws itself against the bars of her ribcage, aching for a different ending.

What she doesn’t acknowledge can’t break her heart.

***

The head warden’s ring of keys jingles in Aud’s hands. She’s shaking, blood roaring in her ears. If the spell breaks, if she’s spotted…

The door to the prison carriage has several locks and it takes her long seconds of fumbling to find the right keys, to unlock them all and swing the door open. She climbs inside. 

“We don’t have long,” she says. “Tell me why you did it.”

Yngvild stares at her open-mouthed and astounded. Her hands are shackled to her neck; her neck is shackled to the wall. Her feet are shackled together. 

“How did-” she starts, but Aud interrupts her.

“Why did you kill the king?”

She meets Yngvild’s eyes and tries to remain resolute, to not give in to the distress of seeing Yngvild in a prisoner’s rags, with dirty, matted hair and chapped lips. 

“He deserved it,” Yngvild says. She must blink her gaze steady, unused to daylight.

“Why?”

Yngvild bristles. Her voice cracks with anger and it’s a comfort to know her time in the dungeons haven’t broken her, that her spirit is still ready to flare and burn with all the brightness of her days as Lady of the Star.

“Because he was a cruel man! Cruel and vindictive and _mean_. Sadistic and violent- Do you know why high necks are back in fashion?” She spits the question into the cramped space between them. “I started wearing them to hide the bruises!”

“People say he was a good ruler.”

“He was a bad person.”

“They say you killed him because you’re in league with foreign powers, looking to destabilize the dynasty.”

“I killed him because…” Yngvild looks off, beyond the thick steel walls to the carriage. “Because when we were at Hightower Overlook and he went right up to the edge to show how brave he was, like a massive asshole, I thought about how easy it would be to push him off. But then I thought about how if I did that, I’d be killed. But _then_ …” She swallows, hard. “I thought, ‘better to die all at once than a little every day.’ So I pushed.” Her chin quivers. “I don’t regret it.”

There’s pride in her posture, even through the fear.

“You’re on your way to the execution now. Are you aware of that?” Aud asks.

Yngvild tries to nod, but her bonds prevent it.

“Yes,” she says instead, “I’ve been thoroughly and gleefully informed.” She points a finger - the one thing she can still move freely - at Aud’s warden uniform. “I assume you’ve joined the wardens to see me off in person? That makes me glad. Even if you don’t believe me and want me to burn, I’m still happy I got to see you one last time.” 

She smiles, and despite the tear tracks through the grime on her cheeks, it’s a smile of pillow talk and secret kisses, of stolen moments during spring nights when the blackbird sings.

“I believe you.” Aud kneels down on the carriage floor, tears in her eyes. She finds the keys to the shackles chaining Yngvild’s feet. “I wanted to hear your side of the story. Now I have.” The lock clicks open. “I’m breaking you out.”

Yngvild uses her regained ability to move her legs to kick Aud in the chest.

“Are you out of your mind?” she hisses through her teeth. “You’ll burn for treason, too!”

Aud ignores the weak yet furious kicking and moves on to the restraints around Yngvild’s neck.

“The warden escorts are all asleep. I made sure. If you get out of here before they wake up I can set them on an illusory trail. I’ll buy you as much time to disappear as I can, they won’t- Ow!” Yngvild’s heel connects with her chin. “Stop that!”

“They punish mages twice as hard,” Yngvild pants, the physical exertion already too much in her weakened state. 

“What mage?” Aud grins. “I’m Aud the archer.”

At last, Yngvild is out of her irons. She rubs at the scabs on her wrists, precariously getting to her feet. Aud motions at her to hurry up, but Yngvild still hesitates.

“Your connection to me is known,” she says. 

“I’ve gone to great lengths to swear you off this past year. I’ve said many things about you that- That I’ll never repeat.” Aud pulls the purse containing twelve month’s of her wages out of her pocket and tucks it into Yngvild’s cleavage. “I can handle a little suspicion, don’t worry about me. Just run. Please.”

“What if I’m lying?” Yngvild says. “What if I am the deceiver queen they claim me to be and did worm my way into the palace to clear a path for an invasion? What if I’m playing you for a fool right now?”

The tears in Aud’s eyes spill over.

“Then I am a fool. I can live with that better than I can knowing you’re dead.”

Yngvild looks deeply at her. She’s still for a long beat. When she speaks it is with finality, with all the gravitas befitting a queen: 

“I love you.”  


She slips out the open carriage door and disappears, leaving Aud with nothing but her trust.

***

Westwater is a port town, a busy settlement on the far end of the content in a region regularly contested over by the surrounding nations. Once every other decade or so the rule switches, a fact of life the inhabitants take rather in stride. Allegiance is a fluid concept in these parts - trade is the one constant, the flow of money and goods that passes through here from every corner of the world. The town itself is lively and diverse, with fine literary salons as well as a robust underworld. It’s a place to make or lose a fortune, to etch your name into history or disappear forever.

Aud sits at her regular table at the coffee house by the eastern market, a cup on her table and the sun on her face. Her bow is by her side, unstrung and wrapped in oil cloth. She sips her coffee as she leisurely watches the merchants wheeling their stacked carts, the patrolmen making their rounds, and the drunks loitering outside the pub. It’s a fine morning, bright and sunny, and she still has plenty of coins in her pockets from the last body guard job she did, overseeing a mostly legal business deal in the night quarter. Barring something wildly unexpected, she won’t need to pick up another assignment for a good week or two. 

She waves at the waitress to refill her cup. A lone woman of skill can live a good life in Westwater, and the past three years have been kind to her. Once she got used to the city life she found it suited her. She has a room in a boarding house, a number of contacts, even a couple of friends. Work is steady. The kingdom far away. 

Some days, she’s very nearly happy. 

Morning drifts by, passing into day. Aud dozes off where she sits, one hand on her bow and one on her purse, just in case. She’s well into a lucid half-dream where she’s diving for pearls, when the sound of something heavy thudding onto her table takes her back to reality. 

It’s a sack, of medium size and what seems to be considerable weight. Its apparent owner, a person of indeterminate gender with a hood over their head and a scarf covering most of their face, greets Aud with a small bow.

Aud nods back, unfazed. You see all kinds in Westwater.

“Archer,” says the stranger. The voice is muffled behind fabric. “I require your services.” 

“Sorry, friend. Not taking on work for the moment.”

“This is of utmost urgency and importance.”

“It always is.” Aud gestures across the street. “Try mercenary hall.”

“You’ll be compensated well.”

“Like I said, not taking anything on.”

The stranger regards her for a couple of seconds, dark eyes intent under the hood. Aud shrugs, hoping they’ll leave so she can go back to idling the day away. 

Her hopes go unfulfilled. The stranger doesn’t argue further, but rather than leaving they open the sack. It’s so full its contents spill out over the wooden tabletop. 

Silver. Gold. Coins and bracelets, loose gemstones and pearls on long strings. A sizeable fortune on obscene display, the contrast to the stranger’s shabby robes robes and well worn shoes stark and worrying.

“You earn well,” Aud says, sitting up straight.

“Not me. The Hawkers,” says the stranger. “I’m from their treasury now.”

Aud clenches her jaw. The Hawkers aren’t the largest group operating in the Westwater underworld, but they’re the most bloodthirsty, the most merciless when it comes to defectors, thieves and double crossers.

“Then you’re looking for death, not protection. I’m not getting involved.”

“Once you learn my name, you’ll change your mind.”

“That, I doubt.”

“Guess what it is,” the stranger says, and Aud reaches for her bow, getting to her feet. If this oddball wants to commit suicide by crime syndicate they’re welcome to, but they’re not taking her with them. 

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll give you a hint,” the stranger insists. “It starts with a Y,” the hood is thrown back, the scarf torn off, “and ends with an ‘ngvild’.”

And there she is. Shorter hair, slimmer build, creases on her forehead and a small scar on her upper lip, but her eyes glimmer with mirth and her smile is dazzling as ever.

Aud makes a noise both laughter and a sob. She’s thrown herself over the table before she knows it, scooped Yngvild up in an embrace that is thoughtlessly rough, mindlessly desperate, because all that exists in her brain is the miracle of Yngvild, of Yngvild being _there_.

“I love you,” she says, the words she’s waited years to return. “I love you, I love you, _fuck_ , I love you.” 

“Oh, wow,” Yngvild says, a little strained. “Aud, you have to-”

Aud sheepishly eases her grip.

“Sorry. Got carried away,” she starts, but Yngvild shushes her. 

“No sorries! You can squeeze me as hard you want all day long, just not right now.” She throws a glance down the street. “Yeah, okay, we have to go.”

She begins gathering the treasure back in the sack and tying it close. Aud takes a step out into the street to peer through the midday crowd the direction Yngvild did. There’s nothing immediately suspicious about the five men walking shoulder to shoulder towards them, but Aud is familiar enough with the shadowy parts of Westwater to spot the strips of Hawker red fabric tied around their left boots. 

They do need to go.

Aud grabs Yngvild by the arm and bolts into the alley next to the coffee shop. It’s narrow and stinks of mildew, the rays of the sun never reaching all the way to the ground long enough to fully dry the damp cobble stones. 

“It’s a dead end!” Yngvild protests at seeing the high wooden fence blocking off the middle of the alley. 

Paying her no mind, Aud picks Yngvild with one arm around her waist, taking a running jump and vaulting over the fence. She lands on her feet with a jolt of pain. Ignoring it, she keeps running on sore legs, takes a right turn, a left turn, crosses a backyard and races down a staircase, stopping to catch her breath in the small open space beneath a stunted elm tree competing with the surrounding buildings for light. 

Aud’s heart is trying to punch it’s way out through her chest and her mouth tastes like iron. She’s not at all built for speed. She’s the type who stands and fights. 

“God, I forgot how strong you were,” Yngvild says brightly. “I’m so wet right now, you have no idea.”

“How-” Aud manages. “What did you-?”

“It’s a long and sometimes pretty sad story, but to sum things up,” Yngvild says, “I went underground, got in with some bad people to survive, came here through shenanigans - such shenanigans, I’ll tell you some other time - and joined the Hawkers. Then this morning I was coming past the coffee show and I saw you.” She pauses, holding onto the sentence like a precious stone before continuing. “So, I went straight back to the Hawkers hideout, walked into the treasury, took as much glitter as I could carry and walked straight back to you. And now we’re here.”

“They’re going to kill you.”

“You won’t let them.”

“They’re going to kill me, too.”

“I won’t let them!” Yngvild parts her robes, showing a long dagger stuck into her belt. “I do things now.”

Aud wipes the sweat out of her eyes. She doesn’t know her way around Westhaven as well the Hawkers, whatever respite her mad dash has bought them is sure to be temporary. They have to keep running, leave town, leave the region, perhaps even the continent. They might have to fight their way out. She needs to string her bow, prepare her spells. 

“Why did you steal from the Hawkers?” she says.

“So we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want, together.” Yngvild steps in close, cups Aud’s face in her hands. "I’ve spent every day thinking about you. I’ve missed you like I’d miss… Shit, like I’d miss my own clit. I don’t care about Hawkers or kings or danger or anything. I only care about you, and I’ve waited long enough to have you, _really_ have you.” 

The chances of them getting away with this are second to none. They’ll be hunted down to make an example. Running off with the Hawker's money would be an impulsive, reckless, potentially disastrous idea. 

Yngvild gently withdraws her touch. 

“But I won’t to persuade you if you don’t want this. If you’re saying no-”

“I’m not saying no.”

The gentle smile on Yngvild’s face turns wicked. She gets down on one knee, takes Aud’s hands in hers. 

“Aud Surefire,” she says. “Will you go on an adventure with me, for better, for worse, till death do us part?”

There are running steps coming down the alley. There are voices, raised in anger.

Aud laughs. The sound echoes between the houses, rings as loud and as wild as the woman before her, careless and free and brimming with a love as boisterous as it’s been hardwon.

“Sure,” she says. “Why not?”


End file.
